


disaster trio

by psymyn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 00:07:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psymyn/pseuds/psymyn
Summary: Gavin, looking between the two, says, “I look nice always, forever, except for one instance and that instance is right now.”“Also, thank you Connor for agreeing that this is the worst thing ever made, this is why you’re my best friend. Sorry Nines, you’ve just been demoted to someone I just sometimes hang out with.”





	disaster trio

**Author's Note:**

> me, looking at an unfinished piece of work after over a year of being gone: just post the funny part
> 
> uh yeah so this is actually part of a longer fic that i started a couple weeks ago and halfway through working on it decided i didn't actually enjoy what i had? except for this part because some of it made me laugh. maybe if i write more in the same tone with these three i'll post it, but right now this is what we get
> 
> also i guess for context this is set like ~5 years in the future

“Connor I swear to god if you hit those brakes that hard one more fucking time, I will most certainly scream.”

Connor, the bitch, replies, “I didn’t have to drive, you know.”

From the passenger seat Nines snickers and turns to flick Gavin in the shoulder, where he’s leaning over the console after being kicked to the backseat like a damn side character.

He doesn’t know exactly why they all have to go to the store when only one person in this car (see: Gavin) actually needs to purchase anything to survive, but asking only got him Nines’ answer of, “Because you need chaperones,” and Connor’s, “Because that’s what friends do,” so Gavin has stopped questioning this adventure. At least it’s saving him some gas money using Connor’s car, and now Nines can stop getting on his ass about spending more time with his brother.

“Where’s your list?” Nines asks once they’ve stepped through the automated doors. Gavin pushes a cart ahead of them and glances back with pursed lips.

“List?”

“Usually it’s a number of connected items or names written or printed consecutively, typically—”

“Thanks! Thanks, Connor,” Gavin cuts in with barely held back sarcasm. To Nines, he says, “Nah, I was just gonna grab whatever, oh but I do need to stop by the pharmacy first. My refill should be in, I’m down to my last two shots after yesterday.”

“Here,” Nines says, coming up to take the cart from him. “You and Connor do that, I’ll get stuff you can actually make food with.”

“Okay but please, also get—”

“Pretzels, I know.”

“Yeah, pretzels but the—”

“The sticks, _I know.”_

Gavin snaps and points at Nines with a self-satisfied grin and, once Nines pushes him away and disappears down the towering aisles, turns to Connor and says, “Alright dickhead, let’s go get some T.”

It isn’t very often that Gavin spends time with Connor one-on-one like this, but every time he does he’s reminded of how different the two RK models are. As in, how much more annoying the original really is.

“And you know, I think maybe that’s the reason Sumo doesn’t like the vacuum.”

Rolling his eyes and shouldering past a family parked right in front of the pain relief shelf, Gavin says, “Most days, Connor, I’m actually glad we were able to get over the problems we had—”

“Oh _we_ had the problem?”

“—but right now I really don’t regret ever punching you.”

Connor hums thoughtfully and Gavin sees him nodding to himself. Then, he says, “If you want, Gavin, I don’t mind making you eat the floor of this WalMart,” in as polite a tone as Gavin has ever heard him speak.

He’s used to this, their thinly-veiled threats backed by nothing but the need to poke fun at past traumas, but that comedic timing is so sudden that Gavin finds himself nearly doubled over with a hand on Connor’s shoulder in support.

“Holy shit,” he says in a wheeze. “I’m gonna give you that one, I totally wasn’t ready for it.”

Connor, shaking his head with a vaguely confused grin, says, “I cannot seem to find what Nines sees in you.”

They’re steps away from the pharmacist’s counter, the guy behind it already looking at them expectantly, but Gavin bites through his teeth, “Um, obviously my sunshine personality and the fact that when I was twenty-three I once won a hotdog eating contest against, like, five other guys. Hi, pickup for Gavin Reed?”

The pharmacist comes back with Gavin’s next six month prescription and he turns from the counter with a muttered thanks before striding back through the aisles to where he hopes Nines isn’t stocking up on celery shakes and vegan frozen hamburger patties. He’s already vetoed both of those once and twice before, respectfully, and he really doesn’t want to have that argument again.

“Here, can you hold this,” Gavin says and hands Connor the bag of his shots, who has his hands folded behind his back and watches it fall to the floor with a clatter. Letting out a huff and bending down to pick it up, Gavin grumbles out, “Dammit Connor what the fuck I gotta find Nines I can’t deal with this kind of disrespect.”

They don’t find him with the produce, or the dairy, or really anywhere throughout the grocery aisles. Stopping so suddenly that Connor steps on the heel of his flip flops, which, rude, Gavin wants to run his hands across his face because, “Wow, okay, I know exactly where he is.”

“Nines, what the fuck!” Gavin calls across the clothing racks sitting in that odd carpeted area in the middle of the store.

Nines, holding up an identical black button up to the one he’s currently wearing, says, “What, I need clothes.”

“You have, like, plenty.”

“How’d it go? Do you have your prescription?”

Gavin holds up the bag, receipt stapled to it. “Connor threatened to deck me.”

“Oh good,” Nines says when Connor just shrugs. “You had me worried, you two weren’t fighting enough.” He turns back to the clothes rack and Gavin takes the opportunity to check the basket for what the hell Nines had picked out for him. He catches sight of his pretzel sticks, perfect, as well as a purple and white package he reaches for, pulling out some name brand milanos. He turns, holding them up near his head and shoots Connor an impressed look behind Nines’ back, silently mouthing a _not bad._

“Try this on.”

Gavin drops the snack into the cart and looks to find Nines holding out a godawful patterned shirt that more so looks like something the old Anderson would wear. There’s a lot of orange, the color Gavin despises the most, and he really does not want to take that hangar.

“Absolutely not.”

Even Connor raises a finger. “I don’t know, Nines.”

“Gavin,” Nines presses, and Gavin sucks his teeth and goes to find a fitting booth.

When he steps out in all its glory—oversized, garishly clementine, the stars doing absolutely nothing for the print—Nines looks thoughtful and as if he’s actually contemplating it while Connor stands behind him fervently shaking his head.

“You look nice,” Nines says, and Connor stares at the back of his head as if he’d just grown a second one.

Gavin, looking between the two, says, “I look nice always, forever, except for one instance and that instance is right now.” Nines glares at him half-heartedly. “Also, thank you Connor for agreeing that this is the worst thing ever made, this is why you’re my best friend. Sorry Nines, you’ve just been demoted to someone I just sometimes hang out with.”

“Fine,” Nines says loftily. “I guess you won’t want me over tonight then.”

Never thinking he’d have to backtrack so fast in his life, Gavin reaches out to grab Nines’ shoulders and panics, “No, wait, please, an episode of Big Brother comes on tonight and you promised we’d watch the whole thing together.”

“Can I come?” he hears Connor ask.

Standing on his toes so he can see over Nines, Gavin narrows his eyes at him and smirks, “What, you wanna third wheel?”

“Okay,” Nines says, pushing Gavin down and guiding him back to the fitting room. “We should go now.”

**Author's Note:**

> i can't write without listening to something, so here, the unofficial soundtrack(s) i created just to write this mess
> 
> [i tell gay jokes bc i am a gay joke](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Drs5p1dJKky4WSQSZwQFg) (gavin)  
[last warning before i sing you a lullaby, fucker](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3wevVLqGBjaY6yqbOV9zuo) (rk900)  
[i don't need a man but where is he](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0xpuyqQZdthurbCan2TEce) (reed900)
> 
> Edit 06-12-20: Added this to my profile, but adding it to my fics as well. I am free to be a beta reader for anyone who needs one. If you’re interested, email me! dylark9@gmail.com


End file.
